


fill up the space that i don't need

by maiamaryse



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Character Study, Family is hard, Gen, M/M, nursey is a nice guy, the poindexter brothers love and hurt each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 22:06:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12567236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maiamaryse/pseuds/maiamaryse
Summary: There’s a second where he doesn’t think about the dusty school yard or Raymond Poindexter or the Holy Bible; it’s just Nursey’s soft lips and soft everything else- fingers and voice and temperament, the way he makes Will feel at ease just before he pushes him off the edge, the gentle way he’s pressing their bodies together and the potential it all has to soften him out, too.And then it all comes crashing down, and the smell of the hospital, and his father’s breath, and fish guts overwhelms him.





	fill up the space that i don't need

“I can’t believe you don’t have goddamn AC, Neal,” Daniel groans, sticking his body impossibly further out of the back seat window, his bare feet propped up on the console between Will and Neal, cap shading his closed eyes, “soon as I get a car- no matter what kinda piece of shit on wheels it is- it’s gonna have goddamn AC.”

“Well, no one’s forcing you to be here, hotshot,” Will snaps back, elbowing the inner souls of his feet, and Daniel kicks the back of his seat for his efforts, sending Will jolting against the dashboard and Neal into a fit of barking laughter- the kind of laugh that fills up the whole room, the same one as their Uncle’s.

The drive from Maine to Samwell is beautiful, and Will watches the mountains smooth out and the trees get smaller with what’s probably an inappropriately desperate anticipation in his chest- it hadn’t been a bad summer, just long and humid and busy on the boat which is to say that it had been the same as every other summer he’d had before. He’s ready to feel like he’s moving, again.

“Wanted to see what’s got Willy feeling like he’s gotta go so far away from home,” Daniel grins, leaning forward to ruffle Will’s hair, sharp grin matching his sharp jaw. He’s kidding, of course, but his words always fall as sharp as the rest of him. Daniel always was just a little too sharp. No matter how gentle he intended to be, he couldn’t keep his hands from being knives. When Dex was eight and Danny was ten he’d bitten his shoulder so hard he’d bled when they were play fighting. And no matter the softness of his true feelings, he just couldn’t keep out the bite.

“Pretty sure it’s to get away from you, baby brother,” Neal smiles back, broad like his shoulders.

“You’re only a year older than me, meathead, I’ve got two on Billy,” Daniel complains, tugging the cap further down his face.

“Barely any difference,” Will scoffs, feeling his heart jump in his chest as they pass a gas station he recognises.

“Oh, well, Billy here knows all about numbers seeing as he’s a fancy college boy, not like I’m doing inventory on the boat every goddamn day,” Daniel sniffs, and Neal and Will comment in unison on the fact that Danny hasn’t done inventory since that time when he was sixteen and he forgot to put the zero on the end of a twenty and nearly gave Uncle Raymond a heart attack. Daniel kicks them both and Neal complains that he’s going to make him crash his piece of shit on wheels and then they pass a sign welcoming them to Samwell. 

Will’s brothers help him unload his stuff and then Bartley calls to tell them to _quit playing hooky and get the fuck back_. 

Neal wordlessly punches his shoulder and Daniel tells him not to do anything he wouldn’t do and then they’re gone. 

 

Will has a second to register Chowder answering the door before he’s being hugged, tight and strong and more than a little suffocating. Will laughs, pushes him off and ruffles his hair and Chowder grins- teeth and braces and tongue.

“Dude, you weren’t kidding about not getting cell phone reception out on the boat, huh? I missed you so much, you gotta tell me all about it! Oh, Bitty made pie!” He rambles, and Will’s surprised to find his throat closing up a little bit- the smell of pie and the front stoop and _Chowder_ filling something up inside his chest that he didn’t realise was empty.

“You okay, Dex?” Chowder asks- bright like a cartoon character or his fifth grade teacher or the stars over the ocean when there’s no clouds to hide them.

“Yeah, C, I’m great,” Will grins, because he is. 

 

Bitty feeds them pie and complains that Will has lost weight and generally mother hens them- _Are you all settled in your new dorm room, Dex? Did you meet your neighbours? I hope you didn’t work too hard this summer_ , and Will allows it. Rans and Holster show up together and chirp Bitty for the fact he’s already baking, and Lardo announces her presence by tackling Chowder off his chair and aggressively noogying him. And then Nursey shows up.

They’d left things fuzzy, last year. Will remembers heated arguments that became fond, a mutual respect followed by a hesitant friendship- Nursey’s gaze heavy that night when Chowder had convinced them somewhere would be selling ice cream at four in the morning and they’d ended up getting Mc Flurries. And then summer had come, and Will had gone back to all _that_ , and it had felt wrong, for some reason, to try and mix up that world with this, even when his phone had been working. Now, Will wonders what he missed- how Nursey’s summer was, and who he argued with, and how many times he laughed, and if anyone made him cry.

He looks a little taller, and he’s got a slight stubble framing his face nicely. The sweater looks new- forest green and ‘worn out’ in that manufactured way that’s become fashionable recently. Same insufferably perfect features, though, same eyes. 

“You miss me, Poindexter?” Nursey grins, and Dex smirks right back.

“No.”

 

It feels a little weird, the seven of them sitting around in the garden- strewn across various lawn furniture and the porch steps. Dex hadn’t realised how much space Shitty and Jack took up, but it’s there in the way Lardo smirks but doesn’t share the joke, a couple times. The wistful look in Bitty’s eyes. They all have plates of pie, though, and they joke around guessing what the new frogs will be like, which turns into chirping each other on what they’d been like at the beginning.

Holster butchers Bitty’s accent in an impression of his introduction, and then they’re all repeating his awful fake accent and Chowder laughs so hard he cokes on his pie.

 

The call comes that night at four am, and he jolts out of sleep violently, heart hammering in his chest, at the intrusive volume of his phone plugged in right next to his ear. “Fuck,” He tells the room, scrambling to unplug his phone and sit up. It’s a number he doesn’t recognise, but something compels him to answer anyway- there’s a whole lot of people that could be.

“Hey Willy,” Dara drawls, and Will finds himself more irritated than surprised.

“It’s four in the morning,” He replies, deadpan, resting his forehead against his hand- feeling the weight of it where his elbow presses into his thigh. 

“Really? Hah, whatever, this is important,” Dara’s voice cracks- Will wonders if it’s because he’s high, or because he’s been running, or because the line’s disconnecting. 

“What do you want?” Will sighs after a pause.

“Wanted to hear your voice, kid,” Dara says after a longer pause, catching Will off guard with his sincerity. It’s not a tone of voice he’s really heard Dara use before- even with his hand on Will’s shoulder, he’d always been fire and anger and righteous vengeance on the whole world. 

“Jesus, Dara,” Will laughs- exhausted hysteria, “I haven’t heard from you for over a year. Far as I know, none of us have.” 

He wonders how Dara even got this number.

“Oh yeah? Who the fuck is _us_?” Dara shoots back, but he doesn’t sound pissed, just that same tired stubbornness. 

“What do you want?” Will repeats.

“What are you doing now?” Dara asks, “You graduate? Working on that fuckin’ boat?” Will remembers Dara, fourteen and throwing up into the ocean, and himself, eight, with a hand on Dara’s back, hoping he’d be done before Bartley came back.

“I’m at college,” Will tells him.

“What? Raymond payed for that shit?” Dara asks incredulously.

“No,” Will scoffs, “Hockey scholarship. There’s other ways to get out of that town than stealing Bartley’s car in the middle of the night.” He tries to keep any bitterness out of his voice, channels superiority and judgement rather than betrayal.

“You know I didn’t do that shit to get out of _town_ , Willy,” Dara breathes, just this side of apathetic. And Will does know- knows that Bartley had always blamed Dara, that Neal had never understood him, that Daniel had just hated him. He remembers Uncle Raymond grilling him about his attitude, his lack of work ethic, what a burden he was. 

The ‘I didn’t do that shit to get away from _you_ ’ goes unspoken.

“Where are you, Dara?” Will whispers.

“I’m glad you’re at college, kid. I really am-“

“ _Dara_ -“

“Just… are you happy, Will?”

“I… yeah, I guess I am. Would you just tell me what you’re-“

“Good. Try to keep it, kid,” Dara cuts him off again- voice shaking like his hand on Will’s shoulder, like his shoulders over the side of the boat- and hangs up.

Dex doesn’t get back to sleep. He lays in bed until it’s time to get up for morning practice, thinking about rock music coming from the bedroom above him, and the dusty school yard, and black boots kicking up dust. Bartley’s piece of shit on wheels disappearing down the dirt road; how Will had watched from the back porch and known it wasn’t Bartley inside by the Metallica blaring out but hadn’t alerted Uncle Raymond. The way the car had skidded out, kicking up clouds of dust.

 

At breakfast, after practice- somehow more gruelling than usual- Dex takes his usual seat next to Nursey- somehow still as calm as a Sunday afternoon - and steals a piece of toast from his plate. Nursey cuts off whatever story he was telling Lardo to try to snatch it back.

“Hey, get your own!” Nursey complains, and Dex licks a long stripe over the slice, getting an unpleasant mouthful of butter for his troubles but making sure not to react to it. Nursey’s disgusted expression is far too dramatic to be real.

“Sure, here,” Dex smiles, trying to return his stolen breakfast to Nursey’s stack, and Nursey shrieks as he rushes to move his plate out of the way.

“You can keep it, fuckin’… toast gremlin,” Nursey grumbles, keeping a protective arm around the rest of his food.

“Maybe if you didn’t hoard produce in the first place you wouldn’t be targeted,” Dex shrugs, taking a bite of his food, “pig.” he finishes with his mouth full.

The moment Nursey’s mock glare cracks is Dex’s favourite. Dex can tell when he’s about to win because Nursey’s eyebrows start to wobble where they’re frowning , and the corners of his mouth where they’re turned down shake just a little bit. When this starts, he knows it’ll just take a little push before he actually begins to laugh.

“Oink, oink,” Dex deadpans, his blank expression steadfast as he takes another bite and the dam breaks.

“You guys are so weird,” Lardo tells them as Nursey pushes his plate of toast between himself and Dex so they can share, unsuccessfully holding back his giggles. 

 

It’s easy to slip back into it, now that it’s his second time finding all his classrooms and tacking up his timetables- he knows which study room at the library to book, and which teachers won’t mind if he’s a little behind so long as he explains himself, which ones will and don’t want to hear the excuses. He slots himself into his desk chair and back on the ice- early morning chill and the sweaty humid locker room, and the rink a mix of the two. He finds himself in the Haus even more often than last year, knowing he’s welcome to listen to Bitty chatter in the kitchen, or sprawl out on Chowder’s bed for a few hours, or look through Lardo’s sketchbooks while she and Nursey smoke a bowl. Ransom and Holster pick up captaincy with ease- the same impossible ass-kicking practices as last year, but with goofier “bonding” shit thrown in. Dex slips right back into coding and skating and kegsters, and right back under Nursey’s arm- watching him laugh so hard he nearly takes them both crashing down to the floor as Dex keeps chirping him about his hygiene, or his shoes, or the way he pronounces ‘cinnamon’. 

It feels a bit like waking up.

 

Holster is laughing so hard Dex is a little worried he’s going to suffocate. He’s hitting Ransom in the chest as if asking him to stop, but it just seems to egg him on further.

“So then my Dad comes in, holding the note my sister had left on the fridge but with, like, all these passive aggressive side notes from me and my Mom on it,” he continues, fighting to be heard over Holsters choking and Nursey’s giggling and Dex’s own barking laugh, “And he just like turns to my sister and goes, totally serious, ‘is this some kind of art thing?’” 

“What the FUCK-“ Holster forces out, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. Laughter bounces off the walls of the locker room, all mixed up in an off key harmony. Nursey scrunches up his face when he’s laughing, doesn’t ever cover his wide mouth or squinting eyes- just leans his head back and claps, not a hint of self-consciousness.

“I want to meet your Dad so badly, what an icon,” Nursey grins, packing the rest of his equipment into his bag, “That’s actually for sure something my Moms would do, though- the note thing.”

“God, my parents would never. Any time my brother even, like, nudges me we have to sit down as a family and talk about it,” Holster grins, doing up his shoe laces, “like, all they read is parenting books.”

“Oh man, are they like those parents who don’t believe in grounding?” Ransom asks.

“They’re never mad, bro, just disappointed,” Holster puts a hand over his heart, and Nursey cackles like he’s heard it too. Dex hasn’t heard it. It makes a nice picture, though; Nursey young and sheepish with paint on his fingers or mud on his shoes, his Moms sighing fondly.

“Uncle Ray just let us fight it out, don’t know what else he would have done with five boys in a three bedroom house,” Dex shrugs, zipping up his bag. When he looks up they’re all looking right back at him.

“Like, physically fighting?” Ransom asks, sounding surprised.

“Yeah,” Dex says again, shrugging but feeling it a little awkward on his shoulders. They’re all looking at him in that curious way (the playground, the church, the nurse’s office), “It wasn’t a big deal. Like, just… brothers, you know?” He frowns. Laughs. Puts his bag over his shoulder.

“I dunno, just sounds, like, violent,” Nursey shrugs. Dex prickles with discomfort, holds his lips closed so he won’t spit out something nasty. He’s not… Nursey isn’t wrong, it’s just that Dex hadn’t really thought about it like that. The easy burn of fighting his brothers was familiar, and definitely not the most brutal thing about his childhood. It was just something they did. But it was violence- his heart beat thumping through his whole body as he ran through the back yard, kicking up dust, knuckles bruised and cheek bleeding. Bartley’s hands being weapons. 

“I guess,” Dex shrugs. 

 

Dex finds himself, impossibly, in Nursey’s room more often than not. Nursey doesn’t have a room mate, is the thing, and there’s just so much space he doesn’t occupy; he normally just sits at the end of his bed with that notebook in his hand and a pen in his mouth. 

Dex finds himself sat at Nursey’s desk pretending to work, finds himself watching Nursey instead- the words murmured around the pen, too quiet for Dex to hear. The ever present frown, the biting of the lip, the furious scribbling followed by full minuets of nothing, Nursey’s eyes scanning the page again and again and again, flitting from left to right. He watches Nursey stare out the window for long minuets. He notes the way the minuets grow longer as the weather gets worse.

Nursey answers on the third knock, and Dex knows instantly that something’s off. He’s wearing the same shirt he wore yesterday and a pair of gym shorts, and his hair’s ruffled like he just got up. He smiles, a little, when he sees Dex but there’s something wilting about him. He pads over to his desk chair and perches on the edge of it, bringing his knees up to his chest and looking out the window.

“Hey, man. You missed team lunch,” Dex says after a moment of watching Nursey watch the weather.

Nursey makes a non-committal noise, shrugs his shoulders in a clunky, awkward way.

“You okay?” Dex asks, sitting on the bed.

“Yeah,” Nursey nods, turning his attention back on Dex, that little smile again, “Yeah, just… in my head, you know?”

Dex doesn’t really know. He wonders what it is that Derek sees when he closes his eyes- turns in on himself like that, why the rain beating against the window means something so much deeper to him than to Dex.

“Well, get out of there and come grab some lunch, yeah?” he says.

 

It’s easy to spend more time with Nursey than anyone else without realising it. Dex starts taking the long route back from practice so they can walk together a little longer. And sometimes Nurse wants to go get a coffee, or sit by the lake, or stand in his doorway for ten minutes because neither of them want to let the conversation die. And it’s wordless, when Dex starts coming in, staying the night because it got so late, watching Nurseys chest rise and fall in the early hours of the morning.

 

There’s a second where he doesn’t think about the dusty school yard or Raymond Poindexter or the Holy Bible; it’s just Nursey’s soft lips and soft everything else- fingers and voice and temperament, the way he makes Will feel at ease just before he pushes him off the edge, the gentle way he’s pressing their bodies together and the potential it all has to soften him out too. And then it all comes crashing down, and the smell of the hospital and his father’s breath and fish guts overwhelms him.

“Wait,” He says, and then again when Nursey goes to pull away completely, “Wait.”

Dex’s hands are wrapped around Nursey’s forearms, pinkish and sharp like lobster claws. He thinks _what if I ruin this what if it ruins me what if I ruin you_ and then he catches the patient expression on Nursey’s face and remembers that night, how every closed ice cream store had made Dex angrier and how Nursey had just remained fond and unfathomed, happy to stroll the streets until they found what Chowder wanted, and then he kisses him again- this one quieter, quicker, an affirmation rather than a declaration- and says, “Just… wait.”

 

Dex escapes into the back yard. 

“Hello?” He answers his phone, watching the bruised sky with all its scarlet and coral and plum

“You heard from Dara?” Bartley replies, short and biting like an accusation. Dex doesn’t know what he’d expected.

“I- what? Why?” Dex asks, starting to pace.

“He owes me some money, Will, and he asked me for your number right before he changed his. So, just send me his new number.” He stops pacing.

Will’s ears ring, just a little bit. He feels confused and betrayed and doesn’t know why and then he is enraged.

“Have you been in contact with Dara this whole time? You fucking- what money? What?” He moves away from the house, towards the big oak tree. 

“It’s not a big deal,” Bartley sighs, “Just give me his number.”

“I- what, no… I don’t even know what’s going on-“

“Stop being such a little bitch about it Will, Christ,” Bartley complains, “Did he call you or not?”

Will doesn’t reply. He thinks about all the times he asked Bartley when Dara would come back, and how Bartley had ruffled his hair and told him he didn’t know. To stop asking.

“Just man up and tell me the truth, Will. God, you’re acting like a fucking fag,” Bartley spits and it jars him like a punch in the nose- tears springing to his eyes before he’s even registered the way the blow had felt. The feeling that had been clawing up his throat since he looked down at his phone and saw Bartley’s name is suddenly all over him- scratching and slicing at his skin. 

“Fuck you,” He grunts, hangs up, turns off his phone. 

“Fuck you.” He repeats, staring down the tree, marching up to it until his forehead is pressed against the rough bark. “Yeah, man, school’s going great. I miss you too, man. I’m proud of you too. Sure, you can all come visit, make sure you give Dara a call- seeing how well you two have kept in touch.” He mumbles furiously, pushing all his faggy bitching into the wood, feeling it push right back against his forehead.

 

“Hey Dexy,” Nursey presses the words to the back of his neck, arms coming round his waist in a way that is suddenly suffocating. Dex feels every eyeball in the room- pictures them zeroing in on Nurseys arms and Dex’s waist and then they’re all his brothers and then they’re all his Uncle and he jerks away, pushing Nursey’s arms off before he even really registers what he’s doing.

“Hi,” Dex says shortly, spinning round to face Nursey but keeping his eyes on the fridge.

“Um, everything okay?” Nursey laughs, some almost mocking lilt to his voice which is suddenly infuriating. Like it’s so typical of Dex to be weird about things other people can just enjoy that it’s comical- Dex is the butt of the joke again. The ugly feeling of being laughed at rather than with. _What’s up, Will? You gonna cry about it, Billy?_

“’m fine,” Dex grinds out, hands balling up into their usual fists, throat closing up followed by lips hardening into a suppressive line- a procedure he knows and trusts to stop himself from seeming like a pussy. Direct eye contact, puffed out chest. Pissed. 

“What? What’s wrong?” Derek’s stupid eyebrows draw together, his mouth turning down in concern which is very close to pity which is _totally_ uncalled for.

“Nothing, Jesus, you’re just being clingy as fuck,” Dex spits back which has the desired effect. Nursey visibly flinches- a minute movement in his shoulders, and he stares at Dex for a second like he just punched him in the gut. The word ‘clingy’ was chosen specifically and Dex watches is slice through Nursey’s ribs and settle for just a moment before Nursey laughs again.

“’Kay, whatever, man,” He shrugs, turning as if he’s about to leave.

“Whatever?” Dex repeats.

“Yeah, whatever, I don’t care,” He smiles. Fucking smiles. Asshole.

“Don’t give me that fake-chill bullshit,” Dex accuses because he hates when people back out of arguments when they clearly have more to say and pretend like that means they’ve won.

“Yeah? Well don’t give me that hyper aggressive bullshit,” Nursey snaps back, smile still ever present even as the venom rolls off his tongue- voice still steady like Dex could never make his balled up fists.

“Fuck you,” Dex spits.

“Yeah, fuck you too, buddy,” Nursey laughs. Will takes a step backwards and sees the floor of the boat and the back yard and his knees are bloody and he’s puking and Uncle Ray’s strong hand is oppressive where it should be gentle on his shoulders where Mom was gentle, a sigh deep enough to teach him what a burden he is _Come on buddy get it together chin up buddy quit crying buddy _.__

__When he looks up from the floor Nursey’s gone. He takes a deep breath and downs the rest of his drink. He plays some beer pong and makes crude jokes and starts an argument about a topic he’s uneducated on just to scream. He says provocative things he doesn’t mean just to try and pick a fight and when his friends get bored of it he stumbles back to his dorm building and punches the wall outside- the unforgiving brick and the crunching feeling and the blood on all four knuckles settling something in him. He slams the doors like a little kid who’s Mom just died and passes out._ _

__

__“Sometimes,” Chowder says, stretching out on a yawn- legs splaying out so their limbs tangle, “love is about, like, handing someone a gun and telling them exactly how to shoot you with it and then just, like, trusting that they won’t. You know?”_ _

__“Huh,” Dex says. Chowder yawns again._ _

__

__Nursey just looks at him for a while, stood in the doorway while Dex sits on the couch. Dex wishes he would move. Eventually he sighs, slouching over to take a seat next to him. Dex turns to face him._ _

__“So, you’re not big on PDA,” Nursey offers the olive branch, voice calm and slow and soothing- hand out, palm up- waiting, patient, tolerant. It feels like the weight of the world off Dex’s shoulders, just to hear Nurse talk to him again._ _

__“No,” Dex agrees, taking the hand and lacing their fingers together. Nurseys smile is small and genuine._ _

__“Okay then, I’ll be more aware of that. I’m sorry,” Nursey says, and Dex’s skin crawls just a little; something about the vulnerability of the moment, Nurseys soft hand and soft heart laid out all bare in trust that Dex will return the sentiment- explain himself. Dex coughs._ _

__“I, uh- my brother had just called,” He pushes out, quick and rough, throat itching._ _

__“Oh?” Nursey says, probably because that doesn’t really mean anything. Dex wonders what Nursey will read into it, how ominous the sentence had sounded. Sometimes he thinks Nursey has him more figured out than he does himself. Still, Derek’s expression softens like he understands something._ _

__“But I still shouldn’t have, uh, spoken to you like I did. I’m sorry,” Dex forces himself to speak clearly, look Nursey in the eye._ _

__“Okay, good,” Nursey smiles, easy._ _

__“Just like that?” Dex asks dubiously._ _

__“Yep, I hate drama,” Nursey shrugs but his eyes still look calculating, searching Dex’s face for an answer._ _

__Dex hopes he finds one, hope’s he’ll let Dex in on the secret if he does. He thinks he’s probably going to keep fucking this up and wants to warn Nursey in advance, wants to let him know that it’s less about him and more about something ugly in the way Dex is wired. But Nursey is giving him that easy grin and he’d be an idiot not to accept it- has never been one to afford looking a gift horse in the mouth. So when Nursey leans into his space and runs his fingers along the lines of Dex’s jaw and his cheekbone and his eyebrow, he lets it go._ _

__

__He’s awake in the early hours again, watching Nursey’s chest. Rise, fall, rise._ _

__Dara picks up on the third ring._ _

__“Hey Dara,“ Dex says, eyes closed._ _

__“You okay, Will?” His voice is crackly on the other end, and Dex wonders If he’s tired or far away. Maybe both._ _

__I miss you. You left me all alone back there. I thought it was you and me. I thought you always had my back. I don’t remember anything about Dad, but I remember listening to Iron Maiden on your old iPod, one earbud each. I don’t remember feeling safe since you left. I never understood why you didn’t take me with you. I think about you often. I wasn’t sure you were even alive until you called me. Why’d you ask Bartley for help, instead of me? Why’d you leave me? Are you safe? Are you cold? Are you ever going to come back for me? Did you ever love me, or did I just imagine it?_ _

__“Are _you_ happy, Dara?” Dex asks, instead. And it’s quiet for a long time, and Nursey’s chest rises and falls. _ _

__Bartley’s stolen car roars out of the drive way. Dex cries for a week, but doesn’t let his brothers see. Daniel tells him not to be such a pussy. Neal bandages his split knuckles, but doesn’t tell him things will be okay the same way Dara did, in that way that seemed to come natural to him, as natural as brawling did to Bart. Dex spends his whole life trying to be what Dara seemed to see in him, and misses him, and misses him, and misses him._ _

__“I’m trying my best, Will.”_ _

**Author's Note:**

> title is from the front bottoms 'Don't Fill Up On Chips'


End file.
